


Three Piece Suits and Plaid Button-ups

by parenthetical_no



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), White Collar
Genre: Adult Content, Crossover, Explicit Language, M/M, Mystery, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 14,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parenthetical_no/pseuds/parenthetical_no
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal Caffrey comes to Beacon Hills to locate and apprehend the CEO of a dubious metalworks company.  But after recruiting Stiles Stilinski for help, Neal's investigation becomes darker and more dangerous beyond his imagination.</p><p>(Starts off as Neal/Stiles flirting, but endgame is Derek/Stiles/Jackson!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!
> 
> To further explain the warnings, this is a detective story with supernatural creature violence. Jackson and Stiles are still in high school, so according to California consent laws, they are underage. As of Chapter 19, there are no sex scenes. When I finally get around to it, I will change the rating to M - Mature.

“This town better have a good coffee place,” Neal Caffrey muttered as he slowly stepped out of the black (and completely boring) government-issued car. He and his driver, Agent Peter Burke, had finally finished a long four-hour drive from San Francisco. Neal continued to moan and groan as he stretched out his stiff arms and legs.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, it’s not like you drink those fancy, sugary coffees from Starbucks.” Peter said curtly while also getting out of the car. Being trapped in a moving vehicle with a whining and insufferable passenger tended to fray his patience to no end. Their car was now parked off Main Street of Beacon Hills, California.

“If Starbucks managed to brew a cup of actual coffee right, I would already be a patron,” Neal gave a critical look at his partner. “Hopefully, one of these mom-and-pop places will have what I need. Remember, Burke. You need my brilliant mind to solve this whacked-out case, and right now, my brilliant mind needs good ol’ black coffee.” 

Neal headed towards the Beacon Hills Police Station with long, determined strides. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Peter let out an annoyed sigh but looked at Neal fondly. He grabbed hold of a black briefcase and locked the car. He ran to catch up with Neal, so that the con man wouldn’t jeopardize the needed cooperation of local authorities.

Thankfully, Neal was chatting with the police receptionist. Normally, Peter disliked Neal’s charming facade (it was a very effective distraction), but he could appreciate Neal greasing wheels where it was needed.

“So, Mary, is the chief available? Agent Burke and I came a long way from D.C.” The woman, Mary, had blushed just a bit when Neal used his billion-watt smile. “I’m sorry, but I still need to see identification.” Peter gave an approving smile of his own towards Mary’s diligence. The FBI agent gave her his badge to examine and confirmed that Neal was partnering as a criminal consultant. Mary called the chief on her phone and instructed the two men to go ahead into his office.

Neal immediately started reading the chief’s appearance once he and Burke entered the room. _In his 50s, probably a war veteran judging by his posture._ Noticing a few trophies on the wall, Neal added mentally, _Hunts for sport but doesn’t appear too arrogant._ He thought back to other unsavory characters he met in his past life who enjoyed the thrill of the hunt excessively, sometimes beyond the allowance of the law. _Those were godless men. But I feel that Chief Stanton is a hard but reasonable man._

When both men sat down, the Chief wasted no time. “FBI, huh. This is a first in Beacon Hills history. I don’t have time to go over proper procedure and all that crap - but you can carry out your investigation as long as you don’t interfere with my own jurisdiction. Got it?” 

The old man swept a very critical eye over both agents, mentally dismissing them as “too young.” Neal and Peter briefly stared with mouths slightly open before they finally closed them shut and simultaneously nodded their heads. Chief Stanton relaxed a bit at this and gestured them out of his office, “I’ll have my Sheriff help you in your investigation as needed. As you may have assumed, small towns like us don’t have much going on aside from domestic troubles and animal attacks.”

The Chief glanced down the hall towards the reception area and remarked, “Sheriff Stilinksi is right down there, so just,” the old man paused and his hackles practically rose like an offended cat, “Oh God, _he’s_ there. Listen very carefully.” Neal and Burke silently obeyed and suffered a slightly crazed look from the Chief. “Do not let the Stilinski boy get involved in the case. Or you’ll rue today.” The Chief rushed back into his office and closed the blinds in his window.

Neal and Peter exchanged confused looks, shrugged, and walked down to the man indicated as Sheriff Stilinski. As they walked on, they could hear an intense argument. “Dad, these are not just animal attacks, just listen to me!” A frantic voice shouted. “Genim, I will not have this discussion here and now! Go home!” The Sheriff was facing a teenager, presumably his son. 

The boy turned his wide-eyed gaze on the intruders, and his father followed his line of sight. Giving a tired sigh, he turned back to his son and spoke softly. Whatever he said was enough to placate the teenager since he left the building with a resigned nod of his head.

The Sheriff turned his body back towards the two men in black, well, one of them dressed a little too well for a FBI agent, choosing to wear a tailored dark grey suit. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

Before Agent Burke could open his mouth, Neal cut in with a good-natured smile, “Where’s the best coffee in town?” Peter gave him a nasty look while the Sheriff paused then laughed out loud.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!
> 
> This fic was originally on the Teen Wolf kink meme LiveJournal, so some of the chapters are rather short. Like this one.

Neal was quite satisfied with Sheriff Stilinski’s recommendation. Strangely enough, they didn’t go to a mom-and-pop diner for their coffee; instead Neal and Peter were led to the public library. Apparently, the true coffee guru of the town worked as the head archiver. The sheriff asked them to wait while he haggled for their coffee. Thankfully, the FBI agent and consultant were simply waiting in the back section of the library, meant for employees only. It definitely would’ve been uncomfortable just standing around doing nothing in the lobby, subject to people’s curiosity.

The sheriff emerged, visibly victorious with a makeshift rack of different travel mugs. Neal’s blue eyes sparked with interest at the uniqueness of it all. But once the consultant inhaled the dark and deeply rich aroma, his expression softened happily. After sipping at the drink, Neal loudly declared his rare praise and approval for anyone in the area to hear. Peter winced at his boisterous partner but had to concede that it was a damn good cup of joe, mysterious origins notwithstanding.

The sheriff secretly wanted the three of them to convene and discuss their case in a private study room in the library; the police station was sure to be a cacophony of noise this late in the day. But having a meeting without access to classified information and basic police resources would’ve made the whole quiet endeavor moot.

After returning to the station and settling in the sheriff’s office, Burke went on to further explain their investigation. “Ulyres Tuccor is the C.E.O. of Mercury Industries, which is the largest manufacturer of metal and glass. They refine and distribute metalworks worldwide.”

“And what are your suspicions?”

The agent replied, “Money laundering, insider trading, embezzlement, among others.”

Sheriff Stilinski looked critically at Agent Burke’s solitary briefcase. “But you don’t have any hard evidence. Especially for those particular corporate crimes.”

“We don’t have all the facts we’d like,” Neal interjected with a mocking glance at Peter. “But Mercury Industries quickly rose to the top of a very large pyramid in a miraculously short time. The company entered the economic world in 2007, but already it has absorbed or edged out all of its competitions, including the iconic U.S. Steel.”

The sheriff let out a low whistle, “Yeah, I remember reading about that corporate takeover in the paper, it caused a huge riot, especially for American steel mill workers. But what does any of this have to do with Beacon Hills? All the major metal refineries are located in the big cities.”

Neal gave the sheriff a sly, conspiratorial look. “Here’s the fun part. No one, and I mean, _no one_ knows who the C.E.O. is. Yeah, he supposedly makes press releases and runs the entire monopoly - but there are no photos or videos of him in person.”

“Surely, he must be a falsified figurehead, perhaps, to conceal a committee or group of some sort.”

Neal and Peter exchanged impressed looks. This guy was quick on his feet for his first time dealing with white collar crimes.

Agent Burke entered the discussion again, “We did find monetary transactions and even managed to trace a good amount of communications to this town. We weren’t able to pinpoint where exactly, but we have every reason to believe that more evidence can be found here, or better yet,” he smirked, “we find Ulyres Tuccor himself.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

Agent Burke and Sheriff Stilinski were looking up a real estate lead, hoping that Mercury Industries may have bought property in Beacon Hills using a shell company. Basically, looking for anything suspicious. Neal, however, preferred to test actual people and communities; he had often came to eureka! moments using basic observation on the people involved in the case.

Which was why he was in the library again. He tried pumping the librarians and visitors for any helpful information, asking if they could think of anyone who was especially reclusive or if anyone new moved to Beacon Hills. Every single one of them had said, “Derek Hale.” Neal humored them and asked why. He was surprised, honestly, at the varying levels of mistrust and animosity towards this guy. Apparently, he was creepy, scary as fuck, suspected of murder, convicted of murder, was a junkie with psychotic behaviors, and lived in a burnt-down house in the middle of the forest. But he had a really sweet car. That must have been stolen.

As fascinated as Neal was at this guy, he knew that obviously such an aggressive and notorious man could never be a viable suspect. The people who commit corporate crimes are typically so careful in their day-to-day lives and work especially hard to keep their private lives completely hidden from view, often with a picture-perfect facade. The people who are openly hostile and boast a criminal record - you can always trust what you see. But it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch for. They’re the ones who are smart enough to cover up anything.

So far, no luck on his part. All this gossip about Derek gave him a headache, due to people’s emphatic reactions to his name. Neal gazed longingly at the back of the library, where the god of coffee surely resided. That was actually his reason for returning to the library. The employees had no problem with his presence in the back offices (as long as he didn’t touch anything), but they all swore that he would have absolutely no chance of meeting the Head Archiver, even sharing a love of coffee. Neal thought back to how even the sheriff, supposedly a longtime friend of the archiver, had to bargain for his coffee.

Neal hadn’t completely given up on his quest for the Elixir of Life, but he was desperate enough to stare desolately at the Employees Only section from his bare study table in the library. He may have switched on his puppy eyes on full blast.

“If you were looking at any other place in the library, I would’ve guessed your girlfriend just broke up with you to elope with your dog.”

Neal glanced to the side and saw the sheriff’s son giving him a strange look that was half sympathetic, half sarcastic. He wasn’t quite sure how that was physically possible, but the kid made it work. “Good thing I don’t have a dog,” Neal replied easily.

Sheriff’s kid laughed and lamented, “You have no idea how lucky you are. I used to petsit these dogs that would only go outside if the moon was out. Crazy times.” 

Neal motioned for the teen to sit down with him at his table. Once the kid was settled and placed his bookbag next to his chair, Neal asked for his name. “Stiles Stilinski,” he answered with a friendly smile and even extended his hand to shake Neal’s. The older man returned the gesture, appreciating the kid’s manners; most teenagers were too sullen or defiant to follow basic etiquette.

“I’m Neal Caffrey.”

Stiles gave him a wary look and asked, practically demanded, “And what are the FBI doing here in the sleepy old town of Beacon Hills?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

Neal laughed, hoping to throw the teen off, “You think I’m a FBI agent?”

“Only an idiot would think that.” Stiles replied with a pointed look. Neal tried not to show his offense. Stiles continued his reasoning, “But your partner was definitely a FBI agent who coincidentally is working with my dad.”

Neal narrowed his eyes and asked, “Does your father usually share confidential police information with you?”

Stiles scoffed, “Again, only an _idiot_ would think that of the sheriff. Mr. Caffrey, I don’t need to look at the paperwork to see that you three are investigating an important case. Why else would the FBI be here? And you’re obviously not tracking down a murderer,” Stiles thought back to his father’s actions when Derek was a suspect. “You are looking for someone but definitely not a murderer. No, this sounds more like some global corporate crime-a-thon that somehow involves Beacon Hills.”

 _This town is just full of surprises._ Neal was impressed by Stiles’ reasoning, but he still couldn’t give any details away, no matter how small. _I should’ve known that the sheriff’s kid would be just as sharp as his father._ The older man changed subjects. Not his best tactic.

“I overheard an argument between you and the sheriff. Something about animal attacks? Chief Stanton said those were pretty common around here.” Stiles was silent as he regarded Neal with a careful eye. _He’s definitely hiding something_ , Neal thought with a thrill.

“Yes, there are a lot of animal attacks here and around town. But the recent ones are different from the usual.”

Neal was intrigued again at the hint of mystery (which seemed to happen a lot with this kid), “How so?”

The teen brightened a bit, looking eager to share his information. _Perhaps his father isn’t the only one to rebuff his theory,_ Neal added to himself. Stiles began, “Most of the animal attacks here are pretty gruesome. Whatever is left of the poor animal is very little, like bones and other indigestible things. Which makes sense because animals need to eat and will eat anything it can.” Neal nodded.

Stiles then started to speak in a more clandestine manner, as if sharing a strange secret, “But these recent attacks are different. The dead animals are left in near-perfect condition with one clean, gaping wound. One, if it was an animal attack, then why is the body not eaten? If it was just a hunter who killed the animal, then why hasn’t its corpse been picked apart by scavengers and small animals?”

Again, the teen looked like he was withholding information, but Neal wasn’t going to press the issue. The man sighed. It was a curious case, but he had bigger priorities. “The one puzzle piece that doesn’t fit,” He commented with a smile. “You’re very observant for a young man. Do you aspire to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

Stiles looked away briefly and replied, “I don’t know.” It was a very common phrase, but the stark honesty and slight vulnerability interested Neal.

“That’s a very smart answer,” Neal complimented.

The teen gave him a warm grin. Neal had a feeling that the kid was a bit lonely. Stiles got up from his seat, and his smile turned a little cocky. “As thanks for listening to my crazy conspiracy theories, I shall reward you.” Neal tilted his head in mild amusement.

The consultant watched in fascination as the teen walked quickly to the Employee Only section. A couple of minutes passed, and Stiles walked back towards the study table with a large styrofoam cup. Neal probably looked like a dog with its tail wagging, as he anticipated the sudden treat. Stiles handed him the cup, or rather the sacred vessel of the Elixir of Life.

The older man sipped in absolute pleasure at the coffee. Then he stared in complete shock at Stiles’ casual indifference. It took probably 10 or 15 minutes for the sheriff to get coffee for Neal and Agent Burke. But it appeared that Stiles just went in, chatted with the archiver, and left right away, with coffee in hand.

Neal continued to alternate sipping his coffee and staring reverently at this really fascinating teenager with a powerfully inquisitive intelligence and a miraculous power over antisocial Soup Nazi-esque archivers.

“Thank you, Stiles,” he said when the teen turned to leave with his bookbag. He replied, “You’re welcome, Mr. Caffrey.”

Watching the sheriff’s son leave the library, Neal wondered how much trouble he’d suffer for including the teen in the investigation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

Burke would lecture him to no end; that he could predict. But the sheriff? That’s a thorny question. _Well, it’s not even a question; of course the man would say no_ , Neal scoffed. But he was determined enough to still include the sheriff’s son in the investigation, even in secrecy. The ex-con man wondered how to contact Stiles without alerting the authorities…in this case, Burke and Daddy Stilinski.

Neal immediately drew the line at stalking the boy at his school or his house; that’s just ridiculous. For the time being, he hoped that he would run into the boy again at the library. Neal had a feeling that Stiles’ second home was the library; it was obvious he was a closet-nerd. If the case didn’t progress from the kid’s help, then at least Neal could boast to everyone back home that he had the best damn secretary who made (well, procured) heavenly coffee.

While his partner and the sheriff continued their research into the local real estate market, Neal still had no idea where to resume his side of the investigation. He had tried talking to the community about suspicious or strange newcomers, but it all led to a dead end. And he doubted that this Derek Hale would give him any help.

Becoming frustrated at just sitting around like a fool in the sheriff’s office, Neal immediately grabbed his coat and just started walking in a random direction. He needed fresh air.

As prominent as Mercury Industries was, there really wasn’t a lot of information about the company structure or the people staffing it. All of the people he and Burke had interviewed were lower management at best. And the FBI couldn’t even determine whether or not the company had a governing board or any other committee. 

_What I wouldn’t give for one clue, one vital piece of the puzzle!_ Neal groaned in despair.

“I only make that sound when I’m trying to do sudoku.”

Neal stopped and looked up into Stiles’ brown eyes. Was that…pity he saw in those eyes? The older man felt a little defensive. But mostly confused. “Sudoku?” he parroted back at the boy.

Stiles replied, “Yeah, sudoku, you know, math puzzles? Really freaking hard math puzzles that only the all-powerful and all-knowing Lydia Martin can do - which is so freaking unfair ‘cause my math teacher only uses them for extra credit, and it’s not really extra credit when only one student can actually do it. It’s A++ credit for the math-elite. Or is it math-lete? Whatever, the first one sounds cooler.”

Neal stared in silence, his overworked mind still processing what the kid said. He watched dazedly as Stiles’ eyes looked more concerned, and apparently his mouth was still moving. “What,” Neal asked.

“I said,” Stiles repeated, this time with more pity, “are you alright? You’re pretty far from the station or wherever you came from.”

Neal looked around. “…Is this a forest? How far out of town am I?”

Stiles laughed in a sympathetic tone and steered Neal in the opposite direction. “My jeep is close by. I can drive you back to town.”

Neal thanked him, and he had a moment of clarity when he asked, “Wait, why were you in the woods?” The boy flushed a little at that, and Neal thought he could hear his heartbeat spike up.

“Oh uh I was just meeting some friends who live near here,” he stammered, “You know, since school is…out,” and finished lamely.

“So who lives here? Wouldn’t it be a little dangerous out here?” Neal felt bad about pushing the kid, but his curiosity was all-too-happy about poking holes at something.

Stiles laughed strangely at the question and continued to fidget with his entire body, practically. It was pretty distracting to see and gave his mind plenty to analyze, causing Neal to smile a little. The boy finally answered, “It’s not any more dangerous than living in a big city with a high crime rate.”

Neal let him win that discussion and motioned Stiles to lead the way to his jeep. Moving onto a less tense topic, Neal prompted with a wide smile, “So…sudoku, huh?” Stiles groaned in response and continued to rant against _cruel and unjust math teachers and their sadistic practices and it was so obvious that they collaborated with Lydia, that teacher’s pet!, it was bad enough she kept me down socially but now she’s oppressing me academically, the bloody tyrant she is…_

He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Neal felt immensely better already.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

“Male circumcision!” Neal laughed heartily. He and Stiles had relocated to a small diner for an early supper and (pleasantly unusual) dinner conversation. “And this was for an Economics class?”

Stiles mock-scowled at him and stuck his chin out in defiance. “It was perfect. An unlikeable practice became a commonplace medical procedure and practically its own market with no competitors. It was a freaking Cinderella story…with penises.” At those words, Neal imagined a transexual Cinderella and tried not to mix his laughter with swallowing food. 

Thankfully Stiles stopped retelling his many antics because he was now attempting to simply absorb a juicy hamburger into his mouth. Neal watched him in amusement; his eyes even tracked the trail of sauce trickling down Stiles’ chin. He was tempted to wipe it off with his fingers, but instead he handed Stiles a napkin.

Once Stiles had cleaned his chin and fingers clean, he settled back in his chair with a soft drink in his hand. He sipped the crisp liquid through a bendy straw while watching Neal carefully. Finally Stiles set down his drink and spoke frankly, “Mr. Caffrey, did you hit a dead end in your case?”

The older man chose not to feign ignorance and replied languidly, “Call me Neal, please.”

Stiles asked again with a mischievous glint in his gaze, “How about a pair of fresh eyes, Neal?” Neal couldn’t even muster the energy to halfheartedly deny his help. Even though the diner wasn’t busy, Neal spoke softly in a low voice. “No one must know, especially your father, Stiles.” The boy nodded confidently and vowed, “Scout’s honor.” Neal gave him a doubting look but smiled nevertheless at the sentiment.

The FBI consultant laid out the basic layout of the mystery of Mercury Industries, and it didn’t take too long to tell Stiles what information they had. After all, it was barely anything. The teen nodded his head as he followed Neal’s words, and the older man smiled; he could see the gears whirring away within Stiles’ mind.

“Well what brought you and your partner to Beacon Hills? There must’ve been something.”

Neal told him about the monetary transactions and how the trail led to the town. Stiles smiled widely and proclaimed, “Couldn’t you shake down the bank and see which accounts may hold that kind of corporate money?”

Neal laughed and explained, “No judge in the world would issue that warrant with so many people’s privacy and money at stake.”

Stiles frowned and amended, “Well, then go back to the records at Mercury and find that local bank account number. Surely that’s enough to warrant a visit to the bank and identify the account holder.”

Neal looked impressed at Stiles’ attention to details and reverse-engineered solution. The ex-con man excelled at reading people and stealing their treasures. But when it came to the banal little things like logistics, he often gave those problems to others to solve.

Noticing Neal’s expression, Stiles shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but that didn’t stop him from flashing a crooked toothy grin. But the grin immediately faded when Stiles saw something behind Neal. The man turned around and saw that a young man had entered the diner and was now striding towards their table with purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...CAN YOU TELL THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A DETECTIVE STORY.
> 
> At least you all can sigh in relief that I'm not smart enough to be a criminal mastermind. :P


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

“Jackson?” Stiles was confused. _Why the hell was Jackson here?_

“Stilinski, you’re missing the meeting,” the lacrosse co-captain growled at his role of messenger boy.

Stiles knew that angry tone in Jackson’s voice and spoke gently so not to provoke the werewolf, “Jackson, I’m having a meal with one of my dad’s friends in law enforcement. I’ll call Derek later, and I’ll see you at school.”

Jackson refused to be so easily dismissed. “No, Stiles, you’re coming with me. You wanted to be in the pack, so get your ass back out there.” The jock had grabbed Stiles’ shirt and started to drag the boy out of his seat.

“Unhand him.” Neal demanded in a deadly tone. Jackson spun around to threaten the man but paused at his warning: “Or I’ll have you arrested for assault and kidnapping.” Before the blonde teenager could shoot his mouth off, Neal added, “Sure, your parents could bail you out, but how long will you last in a prison cell surrounded by bigger, stronger, and meaner bullies?”

Jackson was starting to wolf out, his claws had come out, and Stiles couldn’t hide his wince of pain, no matter how hard he tried. Jackson was still gripping his shoulder, and Stiles prayed that there was no blood; it’d be impossible to explain to Neal.

Covering Jackson’s deathtrap with his own hand (in order to hide the claws), Stiles called to the werewolf in a firm voice, “Jackson!” He did his best to communicate _becareful, don’tloseit, he’sagoddamnFBIagent, calmtheFUCKdown_ to him as possible.

Miraculously, Jackson got the message and let Stiles go. Without saying anything, he immediately left the diner and drove his Porsche angrily away from the scene. Once Stiles couldn’t see that shiny silver car anymore, he let out a huge breath he wasn’t aware of holding back. Neal also exhaled in relief. But now the man turned his hard stare on Stiles, and the teen suddenly wished he did leave with Jackson in the first place.

“Who was that,” Neal demanded, barely on the verge of anger.

Stiles deferred to his number one tactic: distraction. “Are you seriously angry with me right now?” The boy added his number two tactic (puppy eyes) even though they were nowhere near as effective as Scott’s.

Neal took a deep breath to calm down. Seeing Stiles so helpless only brought back bad memories of his previous life. “Stiles, I’m not angry with you. I’m just worried. How do you know that boy?”

Stiles cursed inwardly at being put on the spot again. The teen began to fidget so badly, Neal was starting to feel like a bad guy here. “We go to the same school, and we, we’re on a group project right now. Jackson’s just under his own oppressive spell of achieving perfection.”

“He said, ‘pack.’ Are you in some street gang?”

Stiles laughed at the ridiculous notion, even though his brain supplied (not-so-helpful) images of Derek’s pack and their apparent love for black leather jackets. “No, Neal! It’s just a school project, and it’s just high school clique drama. Everybody has them, you know, epic bitter wars between the band and the choirs, backstabbing and cheating in every clique, even mine to my utter surprise and sense of betrayal, and I swear to God, Neal, it’s just high school drama. It all blows over sooner or later.”

Before Neal could speak, Stiles cut in some more, “And the only drug I’m on is adderall, and yes, I know it’s basically street crack, but would you believe it, I need government-regulated crack to even try to be a normal person, and no, Jackson and no one else at school has ever asked me to sell one of my pills - mostly because my father is the _freaking sheriff_ and is not afraid to sic his K9s on the entire high school population, much to the detriment of my dwindling social status.”

Neal did his best to look appeased and relieved but he was still determined to keep an eye on Stiles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

Stiles knew that Derek was pissed at him missing the meeting. _Why else would he send Jackson? To fetch me even! What am I, a bone?_ The teenager passed the time playing crappy online games; Derek was probably gonna “visit” or scare the shit out of him. Stiles’ mood wasn’t quite sullen, but he would classify it as a “I’m sick and tired of this bullshit” moment. He was also quite tempted to lock his window shut, but it would only aggravate the werewolf further. _No need to jump from his Shit List to his Kill List_ , Stiles advised himself.

A low growl was his only warning of Derek passing through his bedroom window. Stiles swiveled his chair around ( _Wheee!_ , his inner child exclaimed in a tiny moment of insanity) and put his game face on.

Predictably, Derek looked a little more pissed than usual; his nostrils were flared and his eyes were lined just a bit with red. A little red made Stiles feel better about his current situation. At least Derek wasn’t glaring full-on red, _those_ were literally life-threatening. 

There was a definite awkward, heavy silence for a minute or two. Stiles was very tempted to start talking and try to cut Derek’s interrogation off - but he knew that was the worst thing to do to an angry alpha. _Better to wait._ The teen started twiddling his thumbs. He was about to experiment with different ways to twiddle when Derek finally spoke.

“Where were you. You should’ve been at the pack meeting.”

“Hey, I was heading there!” Stiles retorted in exasperation, “I know you heard my Jeep or smelled me in the forest yesterday. It’s not like I completely forgot about it!’

Derek scowled more, “Oh so you decided something else was more important? That sounds even worse.”

The teenager’s eyes glinted hard at the alpha. “In fact, yes, I did do something better with my time. Over the past three months, the pack meetings changed from training sessions to practically puppy piles. With the occasional bloody rabbit. Peter’s dead. Jackson transitioned very well to pack life, and Scott finally accepted you as alpha. There have been no possible threats to the pack or to Beacon Hills ever since your uncle.” _With the exception of Allison’s dad, but that’s on Scott_ , Stiles added mentally.

Derek remained silent. Stiles hoped it was a silence of acceptance. He sighed with a little remorse and spoke more in a softer tone. “Derek. Don’t get me wrong, I will always be grateful that you even tolerated my presence and let me go to pack meetings in the first place. I respect you, the pack, and I see all of you as my friends.”

The teen looked away from Derek’s quiet (back to normal intensity) gaze. “It’s just. Last pack meeting, my dad needed me more. And I wanted to help him.”

The werewolf heard the lie and felt insulted that Stiles would even lie to his face. He spat out venomously, “You weren’t…helping your dad.”

Stiles’ stubborn fire was back. “My dad has a new case, and one of his associates came to me for help.”

“Your father would never allow that, Stiles. Stop with the bullshit!”

“You guys don’t need me!” Stiles shouted. He knew he was being childish, but he needed Derek to back off. The werewolf stood like a statue even though his eyes remained wild.

“If either of us find more about the animal attacks, then yeah, we all can powwow. But I’m also going to help the nice FBI agents in their case.” Stiles was desperately hoping not to use Neal as some sort of threat to Derek to leave it alone, but desperate times and all that.

Derek knew he wasn’t going to get through to Stiles; the teen had a stubborn streak to rival Laura’s. He turned to leave via the window, but before he left, he spoke one last time, loud enough for Stiles to hear. “You might not need the pack, Stiles. But the pack needs you.”

Then Stiles was alone again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

**Warning:** There is some Peter Hale bashing here. Personally, I like Peter; he’s a wonderfully complex character. But this chapter is in Stiles’ POV, so naturally, he’s a little biased. Just a little.

***

“Sorry, what did you say!” Stiles was sure his voice was lost in the whirlwind that used to be a very lovely rental car. A car that Neal was driving. _Like a maniac._ Stiles was dead certain now that Neal had chosen an European car; American car manufacturers limit their cars’ speed so that police can always outrun them. _Ah the rare joys of a father in law enforcement._

But Neal had indeed heard him - though what kind of miracle, even Stiles couldn’t conjure in his wild imagination. Maybe Neal had a relative who was secretly a werewolf and thus passed his awesome hearing skills down the tree branches?

The older man’s eyes glanced at Stiles - and thank God his head was still facing the road! Stiles would’ve lost it if Neal had turned his head completely away from not crashing the car and undoing all of his hard work _not_ to die.

“I had Burke do what you suggested last week; tracking down the local bank account from the Mercury records. He and your father went to the bank to see the details of the account holder, Aaron Lightner.” Neal gave Stiles a look when he said the name.

And the boy didn’t disappoint. “Fake name?”

Neal nodded as he rattled off all the new dead ends Burke found, “Fake name, fake address, no house, no mail because he does online billing, and an automated voice mail for the phone number.”

“So where are we going?”

The older man grinned at Stiles. “Do you have your phone with you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Neal cocked his head towards a freeway exit sign. “Don’t lose it. I consider myself an exemplary actor, but even _I_ cannot lie to your father like you can.”

Stiles saw the “San Francisco” exit sign, and his entire body practically vibrated with thrumming energy and excitement. Or maybe that was because Neal had just revved up the car to the point of constant roar-purring.

It was a confusing mix of relief and terror when Stiles heard the sirens; they were quickly becoming the drumbeat to his life, especially in recent events with Laura’s murder, and Peter’s reign of terror.

Neal casually pulled the car over to the side and even _hummed!_ Now Stiles was more than happy to push all the blame on this crazy man. The teen steeled himself in a defensive pose and was about to burst out panicked, scared, revenge-bent protests when Neal cut him off smoothly.

“Hey Henry, how’s it going today? Catch any big fish?” He flashed a wide smile. Stiles was staring agape in shock, but his ever-spinning mind was currently praying that Neal’s smile was as winning as he boasted it to be.

The police officer’s demeanor completely changed once he saw Neal and the two of them joked like they were two old buddies from high school that randomly ran into each other in the grocery store.

“I don’t know, Neal, you’d be the biggest fish this year - what with you driving 200 miles per hour just now.”

That sparked Stiles back to life. “Two hundred mi - what is wrong with you! We could’ve been killed!” There was something really wrong with a teenaged boy chastising two full-grown men, as well as something really unmanly and mom-ish. But Stiles’ life? Pretty fucking precious. And being killed in a psychotic car crash after surviving Peter the Homicidal Maniac? Lamest death ever. Stiles could just see the epitaph on his tomb, “Survived 3.5 werewolf attacks, killed by maniac car. We will miss him. A lot.”

Stiles was still ranting to Neal about driving deaths and even quoting the statistics; a downside to being the sheriff’s son is trying to pass the DMV’s driving test - and then trying to pass his freaking father’s driving test, which included essays, multiple-choice, true/false, and even a practical.

“Stiles.” He noticed the car was in motion, and Neal’s hand was holding his own. The teen stared dumbly at the change in scenery.

“Hey Stiles, I’m sorry for making you so worried. And I won’t do that again, I promise.” The older man squeezed Stiles’ hand lightly. “Burke always drives the car - for obvious reasons. So I unleashed all my speed demon repression on you. So I’m sorry for that.”

With that, Neal removed his hand and put it back on the wheel, both hands at the ten and two o’clock positions, probably to further placate the still-silent teen.

Stiles was winded from his word vomit on driving deaths, and Neal’s apology was like a punch in the gut. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone apologized to him. Sure, during and after his mom’s death - but no one had ever apologized to him as Stiles Stilinski. And even in words.

The teen sat back in the car in quiet contemplation. He tried to keep his eyes on the streets and buildings and insane traffic patterns, but like a magnet, his gaze was always drawn back to Neal who was perfectly relaxed and calm, a mature adult, who didn’t overreact to Stiles’ outburst, and even apologized to him, a teenager!

And he realized this was the first time he was actually treated with respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. (hides face) WHY IS WRITING SO GODDAMN HARD.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

When Neal sorta not-kidnapped him to San Francisco, this was not how Stiles imagined their investigation would start. The two of them were currently in some fancy men’s clothing store. (“‘Menswear,’ Stiles. It’s called ‘menswear.’” Neal quipped.) Well, Neal had frolicked, actually frolicked like _freaking Bambi_ into…somewhere in the store. Stiles wasn’t sure how he could lose a six foot tall man in a clothing store, sorry, _menswear_ store.

Knowing he couldn’t just leave the store - not only was Stiles a total stranger and completely new to this city - he needed Neal as transportation back home. He didn’t have enough money for a cab ride home, and he couldn’t call Scott. Even though the werewolf could probably bike to San Francisco and bike them both all the way home, but Stiles’ butt preferred the comfort of a car seat, thank you very much. And he definitely couldn’t call Derek for a ride home, no thank you very very much. The two of them hadn’t seen nor talked to each other since that weird fight in Stiles’ bedroom.

And wasn’t that just the most disturbing thing to say of Derek: “We got into this weird fight in my bedroom.”

Stiles groaned out loud at all the freaky and bizarre places his trains of thought run into. Desperate to distract his mind, the teen looked at all the shirts, jackets, ties, heck _even shoes_ \- trying his best to look like an actual customer and not some jackass who didn’t know anything or care much for men’s fashion. 

Menswear. Whatever. Stiles is pretty sure that even Lydia would call it “men’s fashion” in her trademark dismissive tone. He could always trust her to say it like it is. Even if it hurt him sometimes, but that is one of the many reasons he loved her for so long.

By the time Neal reappeared out of whatever rabbit’s hole in the store, Stiles’ ADD was so bad, he was braiding all the ties together, completely and blissfully ignorant of the hateful and murderous glares from the store employees. 

Neal knew he had to act quickly. He would never be able to find some gentle, placating way to say to the sheriff, ‘Well, sir, your son Stiles was killed by a horde of store clerks because he was braiding ties and completely wrinkling the silk beyond repair.”

“Stiles, hey come here in the back. We have to get you measured.” Neal beckoned to the teen who immediately dropped his little project and walked over to the older man. That didn’t stop him from questioning things, though. Nothing would, really.

“Measured? What do you mean? I can’t wear these things! Where would I wear them anyway, I go to school, and even if I did, it wouldn’t impress Lydia, she’d just scoff along with everyone else that I was just trying too hard.”

Neal let him blow off some steam but made absolutely sure to guard Stiles’ retreating back from the silent wall of angry store clerks who looked to be handling sharp pointy pens. And maybe a few sewing needles.

The older man laughed to himself. He knew Stiles naturally livened things up, but he would have never imagined in his wildest dreams how more exciting his life would become.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:   
> In this chapter, Stiles is sexually harassed by a stranger. Please skip the chapter or stop reading if you wish.

_I am not uncomfortable. Oh no. We passed that checkpoint a long time ago, when that handsy tailor was measuring the “inseam,” which has got to be code for “let’s strip Stiles naked to the skivvies and get really up close and personal with the Stilinski goods.”_

Stiles could not remember a more humiliating time. Including the multiple times Coach and Mr. Harris called him variations of “stupid” and “useless.”

He probably wouldn’t have minded the measurement process - if only the tailor was a bit more professional and not so freaking obnoxious! _Yeah, I know I’m not built like a Greek god like Derek, but come on! I can’t be that bad-looking._

But apparently he was that bad looking, judging from that stupid tailor’s smirks and condescending comments. Ugh, Stiles felt like shivering in disgust at how the guy kept looking at every inch of his body, like he was tallying up the moles and flaws. _But Neal would be disappointed if I cause a ruckus. Better to just get this over with, the sooner the fucking better._

_Yeah, I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just in fucking hell. ___

__“Stiles?”_ _

___Ah, yes, I needed the presence of a federal officer to cherry-top this fucking sundae of shame._ “Perfect.” Stiles muttered to himself before turning his head to greet Neal with a forced smile of nonchalance. Any greeting he had for the older man died at the strange wide-eyed look Neal was giving him. The blue-eyed man swallowed hard, cleared his throat and commanded in a no-nonsense tone: “Okay Stiles, get dressed and wait for me outside.”_ _

__The teen practically leapt off the platform, giving the tailor a mental _fuck you_. He grabbed his clothes and hopped into the dressing room a few feet away from the platform. As Stiles pulled his jeans and shirt on, he could hear harsh whispering from Neal and the oh-so-familiar sounds of someone being shoved up against a wall._ _

__Stiles didn’t think even that jerk really deserved to be pushed around - especially when he didn’t really do anything outright mean. But the teen was still delighted that Neal wanted to defend him in some way. It’s been a long time since someone (aside from his father) showed that they cared for him. And he was glad that someone was Neal._ _

__When Stiles stepped out of the dressing room, he was mentally jumping for joy when he saw that the tailor was too afraid to look anywhere in his general direction. The teen beamed at Neal who led him out of the tailor room and back into the main store._ _

__But when Neal kept pushing him out of the store, Stiles stopped him and reminded, “Wait, I need to pay for those,” gesturing towards the suit Neal was carrying on his other hand. The older man gave Stiles a smile, but it wasn’t the usual charming reassuring smile. His eyes were intense and the corners of his lips were actually turned down a little._ _

__“Don’t worry about it, Stiles. I already took care of it.”_ _

__The teen was definitely not reassured but let himself be distracted by Neal’s next promise of resuming the investigation at Mercury Industries Corporate HQ._ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

For probably the millionth time, Stiles readjusted his collar and tie. Neal was driving (like a normal person, thank GOD) and they were both headed for the headquarters complex of Mercury Industries. While the place was outside the city limits of San Francisco, the complex itself was large enough to practically warrant its own zip code and declare itself a business suburb of San Francisco.

Thankfully Neal only planned to visit the executive administrative building. As physically active his current-werewolf-prone life was, Stiles was in no shape to run all over the complex. Besides, the sun was beating down, and his fancy clothes, though light, were definitely not breathable.

Once Neal parked the car right in front of the main entrance, Stiles was more than happy to exit the car to stretch his cramped legs. Exhaling deeply, the teen took a moment to simply look at the impressive building. Neal was already walking towards the entrance with a mission in mind. Stiles reminded himself that _this was no time to gawk around, the man’s probably seen a thousand buildings just like this one._

The teen jogged to catch up with Neal. _But I still think it’s weird there are no windows_ , he added mentally.

Neal was studying the list of office locations and led the both of them to the Corporate Administrative Office on the fourth floor. The entire complex was shut down while the federal investigation was ongoing. The plus side was that there were no employees to impede their research. 

The downside (all the way down to hell) was there were no working amenities, including and especially air conditioning. And with the utter and complete lack of windows, the building was basically a self-generating furnace. Even Neal was sweating lightly despite all his composure. Stiles was dead sure that he was just a sopping mess. He cringed every time he felt how damp his new suit was.

 _Of course this is my life. Someone like Neal does two awesomely nice things for me, and how do I pay him back? By ruining the brand new expensive suit._ Stiles sighed loudly in resignation. Neal quirked his eyebrow at him in curiosity. Which forced Stiles to _shut down the pity parade and focus on their mission!_

Their mission, essentially, was just finding the true identity or heck, any useful information about the CEO, Ulyres Tuccor. Which was really freaking hard without electricity. Oh yeah. Not only did the building not have air conditioning, sweet blessed air conditioning, it had no power, so any computer-based research was thrown out the window. _Metaphorically. That whole no-windows thing._

The both of them were actually rummaging through executive desks and filing cabinets armed with only flashlights and their wits. _When did my life start resembling the Supernatural show?_ Stiles found himself missing those good ol’ days when he only had to run for his life through woods to hide from werewolves.

After a fruitless hour of reverse-filing, Stiles and Neal admitted defeat and agreed that they should head down to the basement level where the archives should be. That would their best chance of learning more about the company’s creation and progress over the years.

When they left the office, they walked down the corridor briskly. Stiles notices a neat line of framed photographs on the wall and uses his flashlight to illuminate them. At the very last photograph (or the first one in chronological order), Stiles instinctively stopped and stepped closer to study the grainy black and white photo.

Neal noticed his partner’s absence and back-tracked his steps to see what Stiles had stopped for. It was the first official photograph of the company’s first owner and his partners - back in the old days before boards of directors and modern bureaucracy.

“Do you see something?” Neal asked patiently.

Stiles shook his head and commented, “The old guy just looked really familiar.” Neal pointed out that the photo was probably from the 1920s or thereabouts.

Stiles turned his head away from the photo and frowned at Neal. “But you said the company began in 2007, didn’t you?”

The older man clarified, “It entered the global stock market in 2007, but its establishment date is 1917.”

Stiles tried to dismiss the photo with nonchalance, but he couldn’t help this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he saw this person before, that he might have known him. _But that’s impossible._

“So unless he’s the prototype Bionic Man, I probably don’t know him.” With that, Stiles started walking down the hall and Neal followed his lead.

Obviously the elevators were really out of service, _thank you, no electricity_ , so the two of them found the stairwell and headed down to the basement level. Once they opened the basement access door, they were surprised to not find their prospective filing cabinets of corporate secrets and revealed identities.

What they found was pretty much junk. Broken office equipment and piles of garbage and _Jesus was that a torn shirt?_ “It’s like the zombie movie of Hoarders,” Stiles exclaimed in a strange mixture of admiration and dismay.

“Hopefully there are some archives down here. Where else would they put them?” Neal pushed on, but he was beginning to despair ever finding any actual answers on Ulyres Tuccor.

Suddenly there was a loud crashing noise from the far side of the basement. Both men pointed their flashlights in the direction of the sound, hoping that it was some animal like a raccoon.

The rumbling shriek was _definitely not from a raccoon_ , Stiles realized with a now-thundering heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, SOME FREAKING ACTION!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

“We’re F.B.I, show yourself!” Neal shouted. Stiles gave him a critical look of disbelief but Neal shot back a look that clearly said, _Go along with it._

The noise died down to a strange rumbling sound. It sounded like a guttural growl - something Stiles was all too familiar with. His every instinct screamed at him to retreat, get outside, find higher ground, to just get the fuck back outside where the sun was still shining.

But for better or for worse, Stiles was also too brave for his own good. He didn’t hesitate before walking carefully into the dark abyss of the basement. The teen slowly swiveled his flashlight hoping to get a glimpse of whatever animal was stuck down there.

The growling stopped. Stiles looked back at Neal as if to say, _Well what do you think?_ Neal shrugged but still held his flashlight firmly and warily. Stiles picked up a piece of debris and threw it in the direction he figured the sound came from. They both heard the sound of a small impact but nothing else.

With a heavy sigh, Stiles turned around with his flashlight aimed towards a promising stack of official-looking papers. “Back to cracking the books then. Dilapidated as they may be down here.”

Neal chuckled. “You sound disappointed. Tell you what, if I ever see a raccoon digging through my trash cans, you’ll be the first one I call to protect me from the beast.”

Stiles laughed lightly and flicked his flashlight towards Neal’s face. His laugh died immediately and he could feel his skin grow ice cold.

There was a disheveled man standing behind Neal. His eyes were glazed over as if he were blind. But even stranger, he was bleeding from his mouth. Stiles aimed the flashlight straight into the man’s eyes. The man let out a shrill shriek at this which caused both Neal and Stiles to stumble away from him blindly, hands trying to cover their ears.

When Stiles opened his eyes and pointed his flashlight again at the man, he saw huge fangs practically bursting out of the man’s mouth. _Those are definitely not werewolf fangs, we are in so much shit now._

“Neal we gotta run!” The creature was blocking their way in, but there seemed to be plenty of room and hiding spaces in the basement. _Maybe we can give it the run-around…_ Stiles grabbed at Neal’s hands and they both ran deeper into the makeshift maze of cabinets, office junk, and garbage.

When he felt like there was some distance between them and the creature, Stiles brought Neal to crouch behind a giant mahogany desk that was scratched all over beyond repair. “Stiles, what was that thing!” Neal whispered too loudly, so Stiles covered his mouth with an admonishing look. He gestured to Neal that they had to listen for the creature’s noises. 

Evasion was their only weapon; Neal never carried a gun, and Stiles only had his biting sarcasm at best. Something told him sarcasm would not save him from a rabid crazy homeless man. Who looked like he was on bath salts. _God, if I get through this, the first thing I’m doing is researching how to best weaponize sarcasm. Maybe inflict mental anguish on the guy?_

Both of them were staying quiet and trying to slow their breathing down to a molasses-like pace. But Stiles’ heartbeat felt like it was going to pound straight out of his chest. _Like the first Alien movie, only with less phallic imagery._

The sound of slow, uneven footsteps shook Stiles out of his mental meandering. They both held their breath in absolute fear. God, Stiles could hear his heartbeat beating in his own freaking ears. _No wonder Derek was so moody all the time, it was not a fun sound._

Even with the both of them imitating graveyard statues, the creature still growled loudly in an almost curious way and started shambling hurriedly towards their hiding place. Stiles knew it was the time to act. He glanced around furiously for any sort of weapon or shield. His hands felt the mahogany drawer handles and automatically gripped them. He prayed that they were removable and yes! There was a kind and loving God. Not kind and loving enough to even prevent this from ever happening but kind enough to prolong the torture with shabby weapons of self-defense. _Thanks, God. Really. It’s like your own freaking Hunger Games up there, isn’t it?_

Satisfied with the heavy weight of the drawer, Stiles listened for the perfect time to strike the man creature. Just when it was about to rush right behind them, Stiles leapt from his crouching position and swung the drawer as hard as he could, pretending that he was in an actual lacrosse game, and the man creature was the goalpost only yards away.

It worked. _Like oh my GAWD, it worked?_ Stiles shared the creature’s stunned disbelief for a second before switching back to reality and grabbing the first pointy object he could find. He screamed while charging at the man full-speed and jabbed the pointy end right into his chest.

 _A pencil. A freaking pencil, like God couldn’t give me a metal pen?_ The man creature stood there as if terrified. Realizing that it was still alive, its fangs came out again and the creature rushed as if to bite Stiles.

Acting on pure instinct, Stiles rose his good leg as high as he could and kicked the pencil as hard as he could, all the way to where the heart should be. The creature crumpled immediately and started convulsing in a terrifying way. The shrieks and howls that came out of its mouth were definitely inhuman of the shit-your-pants variety.

Stiles, and Neal now coming out of his hiding spot, could only stare in shock as the creature fell to the ground in agony, its flesh still convulsing, as if undergoing some rapid structural change. Stiles realized what might happen and yanked Neal back towards their hiding space.

“What, I thought you killed it!” Neal yelled in confusion.

“I did, just hold on!” Stiles waited for the sound again. There was a truly disgusting sound of squelching flesh being ripped apart. When the bodily noises simmered down to a rain-like pitter-patter, Stiles peeked over the desk to assess the damage.

"Well, if it was a man, it’s not any more." The creature looked like it basically exploded like a really gross version of a kid’s exploding volcano. With blood spatter effects. A whole lot of them. When a few blood drops landed on Stiles’ cheek, he immediately recoiled, freaking out about blood-borne pathogens. Both he and Neal moved away with the silent agreement to get the hell out of Dodge.

Stiles placed a grateful hand on the mahogany desk, thanking it for its protection and really heavy drawers. Just when he was about to move away, a glint caught his eye. There was a metal nameplate attached to the front of the desk, as if nailed down. He backed away to read it correctly.

“Neal, look at this.” The older man returned to Stiles’ side and his jaw dropped slightly. This was the desk of Ulyres Tuccor.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

“When was Mercury Industries established again?”

“1917, why?” Neal responded automatically while shuffling through the desk’s contents.

“Because I’m looking at ship cargo manifest lists from the early 1800s…” Stiles held up the documents in question for Neal to see. Neal touched the paper gingerly, testing the fabric and the writing style. The edges of the paper were already rotten, but the ink and paper quality was still good. It was in remarkable condition for its age, but Neal confirmed the written date to be an accurate provenance.

“What was the cargo, can you read it?” Stiles prompted. The older man studied the words carefully - shipmen were not exactly known for their outstanding legibility back in those days.

“I think for this trip, the cargo were mostly large packages, along with basic imports for the port cities of America. Oh there’s something else…” Neal’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be possible. “There was a locked coffin stored in the cargo hold.”

“Is that weird? I thought the bodies of the deceased were often transported to their families or home.”

Neal clarified, “Nowadays, mostly. But in the 1800s, body transport was extremely rare, and if a family with enough money wanted the body shipped somewhere, it’d be more likely that the destination would be a higher-class European graveyard, rather than the developing North America states.”

Stiles frowned. “Did anyone sign for the coffin?” Neal shook his head and before he could explain, Stiles surmised the answer already: “Oh that wasn’t the style back then, I suppose.”

Neal gave the teen a sympathetic shrug. They really haven’t found anything yet regarding the identity and location of the mysterious CEO. “Just keep looking, Stiles.”

After a short while, Neal and Stiles had finished looking over all the documents but had found nothing useful. At this point, Stiles was feeling quite pent-up and frustrated, especially after that near-death experience with the crazy homeless man.

In a fit, the teen kicked the desk to let off some steam. There was a loud click sound, and what appeared to be a secret desk compartment had suddenly opened upon impact. Both men’s eyes lit up at the prospect and both huddled over the pile, eager for clues.

There was a definitely good reason why these documents were hidden. This was pretty freaky shit, and Stiles dealt with werewolves for a living! “It looks like the company bigwigs were experimenting on…humans? Animals? Maybe both?” Stiles rotated the medical and anatomical diagrams, hoping for a more specific answer.

“Specifically their blood types and diseases.” Neal mentioned while looking over lab test records.

Stiles exhaled sharply. “What does a metalworks production company want with blood research? Were they trying to weaponize it or like, create something biochemical?”

“Whatever they were trying, they kept failing. This is like at least a century of medical records.” Neal rubbed his eyes; reading by flashlight was the worst sometimes. Stiles took that as his cue to suggest they just box up the documents and get the heck out of there. The older man nodded in full agreement, and the both of them gathered up their things and headed towards the exit.

Just as Stiles was about to close the Basement Access door, he heard another soft growling sound from a distance. He held his breath, closed the door as quietly as he could, and motioned Neal to hurry up the stairs already.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

Stiles had never been so happy to see the sun again. He and Neal hurried quickly out of the shut down building but he could’ve sworn that they were being watched. By what, he didn’t even want to know.

“Are all recon missions that intense?” Neal laughed at his sarcastic remark. “Of course not. I’m not some adrenaline-junkie to chase monsters in the dark.”

Stiles tried not to take offense at the offhand comment. Neal didn’t know anything about him, about Scott or Derek or the homicidal alpha. But of course his mouth was moving anyway without his brain realizing it.

“You don’t need to be like that to chase down a monster, especially if someone you love is at stake.” Thankfully, that’s all Stiles’ traitorous mouth would say. The teen averted Neal’s curious gaze and started moving towards the older man’s car.

Now that the fear was draining out of his body, Stiles began grimacing at the bits of blood and the gallon’s worth of sweat that now permeated his brand new suit. Neal smiled in reassurance and told Stiles, “Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Stiles hopped in immediately, gleeful to just get away from the creepy building that was sure to revisit his future nightmares.

The younger boy just relaxed during the car ride. True, Neal was back to his speed demon ways, but Stiles could not care less right now. The teen leaned his head back, smiling dreamily and just soaking up the beautiful warmth of the sun. His blissful mood was interrupted by Neal’s ignorance of the interstate exit that would take him back home.

“You missed the exit, Neal.”

“I’m not taking you back home like that, with blood on your shirt. Your father would kill me on sight. We’re gonna stay in town for the night, relax, and tomorrow morning, I’ll take you home.”

Normally, Stiles would protest for so many reasons: an older man pushing him around, making his father worry, or feeling like he was being taken advantage of. But he observed Neal and the easy confidence he exuded. Stiles could trust Neal; he really did just want to take care of him.

Obviously Stiles could take care of himself, but it was kind of an amazing feeling knowing that someone else wanted to protect him and thought about his well-being. Which was why he just nodded to Neal’s suggestion and continued to drift off in the sunlight.

Beacon Hills can wait another night.

“You should call your father, check in.” Neal suggested to Stiles before going to the hotel receptionist to get a room for the night. As Stiles punched the speed dial and waited for his father to pick up the phone, the overactive teen looked at all the classy decor in the hotel lobby. He was very glad Neal didn’t pick some seedy dive home to illegal deals, but seriously, the man didn’t have to go this far. First the suit and now this four-star hotel?

By the time his father spoke on the phone, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and used the comforting, familiar voice as his anchor in this strange, high-class place.

“What’s wrong, Stiles? You sound winded.”

“Oh, Scott and I were practicing lacrosse.” It was an easy lie that Stiles used so often nowadays and hearing his dad’s small chuckle made him feel extra guilty about all the deception. “Also, can I stay at Scott’s house tonight? He’s not seeing Allison tonight, so it’ll be a guy’s night for once.”

“Yeah, of course. Just okay it with Melissa first and don’t mess up her house too much.” His voice was light-hearted, and Stiles could tell that he was just happy about his son finally getting some best friend time. It was such a happy lie, yet Stiles just felt a little like shit about it.

“Thanks. Love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Stiles. Have a good night.” When the call ended, Stiles quickly rubbed at his eyes. When he turned around, Neal was finished at the desk and motioned to Stiles to follow him to their room.

Their room was a basic package, but there were two beds, and Stiles immediately leapt on the closest bed in exhausted joy. The bed was a bit too soft for his liking, but he didn’t care, he could basically pass out.

“Wanna order room service?” The teen’s eyes popped open and pushed away his need for sleep for something better.

“Hell yes!” He exclaimed after sitting up on the bed. Neal had taken off his tie already and was working on his cufflinks. The older man made such a…domestic picture, Stiles could only stare. His mouth may have been open. _Hooray, mouth, you’ve earned your traitor status._

“Wow, you look really hungry.” Neal laughed before handing him some pamphlet. “Here’s the menu, get whatever you want.”

Stiles didn’t even look at the thing. “Cheeseburger with curly fries. LOTS of curly fries.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

An hour later, the two men were still looking over all the strange documents they took from Mercury HQ. Neal had long since finished his sensible dinner of chicken marinated in some sort of unpronounceable sauce and a side dish of leafy greens and sugar snap peas. Stiles, true to form, was still finishing off his plate of curly fries. They were cold by this time, but the sharp and savory flavor made them more than worthwhile.

So far, it was established that Mercury Industries had been performing illegal medical experiments even to the day before they were shut down by the FBI. But what their goal was, Stiles and Neal had yet to surmise.

But most of their tests revolved around blood and skin, which was something.

Stiles was not quite as disturbed by the material, what with the long history of running with werewolves and being kidnapped by crazy old power-hungry monsters parading as men. He did feel bad for Neal who still took little breaks just to internalize everything and keep calm.

 _There aren’t as many monsters in the world of white collar crimes_ , Stiles thought to himself with a tinge of envy. _I wonder what Neal will do once this case is over._

“Stiles, look at this.” The young man moved to Neal’s side on his bed and started reading through what appeared to be a lab report.

“They were testing a new glass compound, and the test subjects were burnt?” Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed in exasperated confusion. “How does that even work?”

“What I want to know is why all the experiments on the skin? How does burnt skin relate to blood diseases?” Neal tossed the lab report away on the growing pile of no-answers on the hotel floor. “There’s something missing. It’s like we’re trying to figure out some unlabeled map and we have no key or legend to help us.”

Stiles knew that frustrated look on Neal’s face all too well. Both he and his dad would make that anguished face whenever something, a case or their relationship, just wasn’t coming together. He placed his hand on Neal’s shoulder in a small gesture of comfort and suggested, “We should just take a break. If we glare any more at these papers, we’re just gonna give ourselves a migraine.”

Neal only smiled at him a little with weariness, but he already looked a little lighter in spirit. The older man laid down on the bed, just quietly staring at the ceiling. Stiles started feeling awkward just sitting there on his bed, so he moved back to his bed and turned on the TV with the volume down low.

While Stiles was sorta not watching the TV (with a glazed look in his eyes), Neal turned his head to just consider his traveling partner in crime. He couldn’t help but compare Stiles to Peter and even to Moz. It was unfair to do that, since his old friends were so much older and more experienced than Stiles, but Neal was honestly shocked at how mature and intelligent the teenager was.

What really intrigued the man was how well Stiles handled that attacker from the basement of Mercury HQ. He knew Stiles was athletic but his manner and his movements all screamed that this wasn’t the first time for Stiles.

And Neal couldn’t ever restrain his own curiosity. “What is your life like in Beacon Hills?” He asked Stiles who slightly jerked away from his half-asleep state.

Before Stiles said anything, the look in his eyes - cautious and a little afraid - told Neal everything he needed to know. _Obviously something big happened to Stiles, something he couldn’t share easily with others._ But whatever it was, Neal was determined to help his friend.

“You saw it, Neal.” Stiles cracked a small self-deprecating smile. “It’s pretty normal as can be when your father is the sheriff. Well actually the most un-normal thing about my life is how I try to involve myself in my dad’s work.” A teasing light peeked from Stiles’ eyes. “Often without his knowledge.”

Neal continued to look at Stiles fondly. “Your father is a good man. The world needs more of his kind.”

The younger man had looked down at that, as if he felt guilty about something. Maybe he was feeling bad about sneaking out of the town, but Neal had a gut feeling that this was about something bigger.

“My dad was a cop, so I understand how complicated it can be to have a father like that. And I remember the pressure I felt from wanting to not disappoint him. To make him proud.”

At that, Stiles looked up at him, as if he was seeing him for the first time. “Yeah, tell me about it. Well actually, _don’t_ , because I’ve been through it all!” He said with a laugh.

Neal pushed a little further, praying that he wouldn’t offend Stiles too soon. “What about your friends? There was that guy in the diner. I think his name was Jackson?”

Even though Stiles had threw his head back in a full-hearted laugh at Jackson’s name, Neal could feel the walls coming back up around Stiles. _So his secret has something to do with his friends._

“If I considered Jackson as a friend, I’d have to really re-evaluate my life choices.”

“It sounds like you guys have history,” Neal teased. The horrified look Stiles gave him was well worth the bad joke.

“OH MY GOD NO. Just. **NO.** Jackson and I do not have history. He’s always been a dick, and I’ve always tried to avoid him. End of story.”

Neal’s protective nature kicked in and he prompted, “Why is he a dick to you? How long have you guys known each other?”

Stiles sighed as if he was pointing out the sun’s location to a child. “He’s a dick to everyone, that’s just the way he’s always been. And Beacon Hills is a small town, so everyone’s kinda been around each other all their lives. We don’t get too many newcomers.”

Neal grinned. “I could tell, people kept avoiding me at the library like I was a wanted criminal.”

Stiles laughed, imagining an absurd situation with Neal looking and scowling like Derek in a public library of all things. “You can thank Derek for that prejudice.”

Then Neal sat straight up as if electrified, “Derek? As in _Derek Hale?_ ”

 _Oh shit. That’s it, mouth, I’m divorcing you and I’m taking the kidneys._ Stiles struggled to distract Neal. “No, God no, not the Hale one. There’s another Derek whose last name is Rodriguez. He likes to cause trouble and pull pranks, which is why everyone was giving you the stink eye at the library.” _Oh Jesus Christ, not even a child would believe that lie, let alone a con artist._

Neal gave him a skeptical look and only asked, “Derek Rodriguez?” as if to say, _Are you shitting me, you couldn’t come up with a better name?_

Stiles cringed at the interrogative stare. “…His middle name is Miguel.”

Neal now left his bed and was walking slowly to stand in front of Stiles who was still sitting at the edge of his bed. Neal rubbed his eyes with his palm and said very clearly, for Stiles’ benefit, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your father about your apparent friendship with Derek Hale.” Stiles tried to protest, but Neal cut him off. “But if he ever hurts you or your father, I will not hesitate to go after him with everything I’ve got.”

Stiles could only sit there in open-mouthed shock at the conviction in Neal’s face, voice, everything. And taking into account that he and Neal have only known each other for maybe two weeks, Stiles was definitely speechless and maybe a tiny bit intimidated.

When Stiles finally found his voice, even he was embarrassed by how much he faltered and stammered. “Not that Derek and I are friends, we’re more like acquaintances. No, not even acquaintances, we only know each other through a mutual friend, you know, his name is Scott, and FYI, Scott is my best friend, not Derek. Whom I don’t know. Really. All that well.”

Neal still didn’t look pacified. Probably because Stiles didn’t explain much of anything.

“And besides, he was declared innocent by my own father, so he’s totally not some wanted criminal. He just likes to act like that.”

The older man looked at Stiles with amusement, “And just a moment ago, you were saying that you didn’t know him ‘all that well.’”

Stiles tried again to backtrack but Neal covered his mouth with his hand. “Stiles, relax. I know you can take care of yourself. Just be careful, alright?”

Stiles nodded, and Neal removed his hand from his mouth. The older man took a moment before sitting next to Stiles on the bed and mirroring the same gesture of comfort that Stiles gave him earlier.

“The more I’m with you, the more complicated your life seems to be,” Neal joked softly. He didn’t see the haunted look pass over Stiles’ eyes.

_Neal, you don’t wanna know._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

They finally made it back to Beacon Hills a while after the sun had set. By the time Neal parked his car in front of Stiles’ house, the darkness was oppressive with almost no light from the moon and stars. Stiles shifted to unbuckle his seatbelt, and his fingers brushed against his freshly-laundered white dress shirt. Neal had arranged for his new suit to be cleaned up while they rested at the hotel.

Spurred by the memory, Stiles took a moment to look Neal in the eyes with sincerity. “Thanks.”

Neal responded in kind, “You’re welcome, Stiles. Give my regards to your father; I hope he bought that excuse about staying with Scott.”

While exiting the car, the teen scoffed in a self-deprecating tone, “Well, who else would he believe?” After closing the car door, Stiles turned around, expecting to see his front door and definitely not an incredibly pissed off werewolf.

_With red eyes._

_Shit._

“Where were you, Stiles.” Derek demanded. His nostrils were flared, and the Eyebrows were reaching Meltdown-Mode.

Stiles’ mind was frantically trying to find some plausible excuse without jeopardizing Neal’s investigation and still manage not to escalate this unfortunate situation. But with every second of Stiles’ blank look seemed to provoke Derek into more displays of hostility.

Stiles mentally threw his hands up and simply said, “Out.” He tried to say it in a wary, guarded, totally spy-movie-like way, but it probably just came out as “sullen teenager.” Either way works for him.

“Out for days and a night with a federal agent? What would your dad, the sheriff, say about that?” Why yes, that was Jackson’s _completely_ aggravating and whiny voice. The last time Stiles heard Jackson’s voice like that, he set him and Scott up and officially filed a restraining order against them. Not that Stiles had a grudge about it, _no, of course not._

“I’m pretty dead sure the sheriff wouldn’t heed the word of a past murder suspect and a teenager who completely looked the other way when his own neighbor was being beat to shit.” It was a low blow, even for him, but it was worth it just for Jackson to shut up.

At this point in the now-becoming-a-conflict-event, Neal had left his car. He could barely believe these jerks were actually preventing Stiles from going into his own house. He circled around to the three younger men, fully ready to use a little force.

“Fellas, we’ve had a very long and stressful weekend, so I suggest we let Stiles go, and the two of you can address your problems with me. I’m the one who asked Stiles to help in my case.”

Derek glared at Neal, probably because 1) his lie detector was busy at work, and 2) was unhappy to find that Neal was telling the truth. _Though not quite all of it. Not that Derek needed to know._ Stiles felt strangely elated that for once, Derek was on his No-Need-to-Know list.

Derek looked like he was about to argue again when he jerked his head to the side in full-alert. Stiles followed his gaze, knowing better than to question the alpha’s instincts. And the teen could’ve sworn that his heart full-on stopped after hearing the same growling noise from the basement of Mercury headquarters.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!

All four men turned their heads towards the unsettling growl. While the darkness didn’t help Stiles at all, he still recognized the sounds from Mercury Headquarters. The other men shifted their bodies to keep Stiles behind them, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. _Nevermind I actually killed one of them earlier, let’s just all treat Stiles like a Disney Princess._

The creature walked the same way as the previous one: slow and shambling, as if on unsteady limbs. Stiles wondered if the zombie apocalypse was here. _But then how did the heart thing work? And the whole gooey explosion thing? Unless the movies lied. Damn you, Romero, for feeding me false information for decades!_

Stiles noticed that both Neal and Jackson were looking at him like he had grown a second head. “Oh, I said that last thing out loud, didn’t I.” Neal nodded mutely while Jackson returned to his glaring-down-the-monster-with-Derek activity.

The creature finally stepped closer to the streetlight, thus revealing…a far uglier visage than Stiles recalled. _That’s definitely not a homeless man!_ Instead, Stiles was recoiling at what must have been the torrid love child between Gollum and Quasimodo. With extra blood effects. Stiles should feel a bit comforted that at least both creatures were drooling blood…and what appeared to be black bile - but somehow, the relief was nowhere to be found.

Gollumodo stopped its shambling and sniffed the air with its disturbingly pointed upturned nose and massive nostrils flaring. It looked like it grimaced at both werewolves, but it was hard to distinguish any kind of facial expressions at this distance. Oh blessed distance, please stay that way. But because someone up there freaking hated him, Gollumodo jerked and pointed its incredibly unnerving glossy-black gaze upon Stiles.

_You gotta be fucking kidding me, why._

Derek crouched down into a defensive position but once the Gollumodo opened its bloody maw ( _and OH MY GOD, those teeth would make a shark blush in shame!_ ) Derek had launched himself at the creature, clearly choosing the Fight option.

Not for the first time, Stiles wished werewolves would choose the Flight option more often.

As if reading his thoughts - and wasn’t that a more frightening idea - Jackson turned back towards Stiles and Neal and immediately ushered them back into the car. While going in his house seemed like an okay idea, Stiles knew he didn’t want that thing anywhere near his house or his dad.

When Stiles turned the car key to start ignition, Gollumodo twitched in a full-body spasm before glancing at Neal’s car. “Shit,” was all Stiles could say before shifting to reverse gear and slamming the gas pedal to the floor. The creature bellowed a gut-wrenching shriek that overpowered even the sounds of the squealing tires.

Knowing there wasn’t enough time to turn around and change gears, Stiles twisted his body to keep his eyes on the back view of the car while expertly manipulating the steering wheel with his left hand. Running with werewolves gave him enough car stunt experiences to qualify for a real-life Fast and Furious race. Of course, his Jeep was far superior to Neal’s sedan - but given the life-threatening circumstances, he was willing to make do.

“Look out!” Neal screamed, and Stiles barely looked ahead before Gollumodo had leapt in the air away from Derek’s clutches and was mere seconds away from smashing the car’s windshield.

Stiles slammed the brakes, changed gears, and sped forward, hoping to at least throw off the creature’s landing. And it worked, though not as well as Stiles prayed. A clawed foot had landed on the top edge of the windshield with enough force to crack the glass into spidery patterns, but the momentum of the car was enough to throw Gollumodo off balance and careen over the car and onto the street.

Sensing his alpha’s need, Jackson threw open his door despite the car still in motion and jumped onto the street, heading back towards the creature who was again facing down a now-transformed Derek. Jackson had also turned into his beta-wolf form, and now all three supernatural creatures were tearing each other apart.

Stiles had turned the car around to face the brawl, ready to run Gollumodo over with the car, if need be. His body was still coursing through an overload of adrenaline, and he was breathing so heavily, Stiles tried to remember his anti-panic attack practices.

Finally, both werewolves had a firm grip on each arm of the creature, and they used all their strength to rip the limbs off. Gollumodo had collapsed from the shock of massive blood loss, and Derek used the opportunity to rip its head off.

Stiles let out a huge sigh of relief and continued to talk his body into relaxing and letting go of the damn wheel. Then he realized that Neal was sitting right next to him. And he saw _everything._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please thank krysylyn86.tumblr.com for her wonderful prompt!
> 
> Also. After writing Chapter 18, I didn't write anything for MONTHS. (Real life is a bitch like that.) So this chapter is a bit different.  
> I wanted to write in Neal's POV, even though he's still traumatized from the night's events.
> 
> ...The more you know.

The first time Neal saw an owl, he was maybe eight or nine years old. He forgot what day it was, but he would never forget that poor creature. Its body was indistinguishable from the dirt and shrubbery, and the only reason Neal noticed it was because of its blood-red feathers. Then he noticed its sharp talons, frozen in a fist-like shape. Owls had wings, he remembered that from his nature books at school, but the wings were different on this owl. Instead of stretching from its shoulders, this owl had wings poking out of its side. White wing bones with no feathers. The young boy didn’t understand, but he knew there was something wrong. This thing looked like an owl, but it wasn’t.

He ran home, frightened and begged and pleaded with his father to see the monster outside. When his father obliged him with a curious smile, Neal led him back to the creature. After observing it from a careful distance, his father verified that yes, it was an owl. “Well, what’s wrong with it? Why isn’t it flying away? Why does it have no eyes?” Neal asked impatiently.

His father took Neal’s hand and started leading him back to their house. “Because it is dead. When animals are old or sick, eventually they die. They stop living.”

Neal looked over his shoulder to see the owl one last time. It moved! Neal jerked his hand back and turned his body to face the…dead owl, not-dead owl? But it was growing bigger and stumbling as if trying to stand up. Neal cried for his father but saw nothing. There was no neighborhood, no sidewalk, no grass, no sky. There was only him and the monster.

He screamed.

“Hey, whoah! Wake up, Neal!” Neal jerked his head back and hit the car seat hard. He groaned from the hit, but at least the pain helped him.

“The owl was a dream,” he said to himself softly, hoping to untangle the jumbled chaos of his thoughts and memories.

“…Yes. Owl was a dream. Apparently a bad dream.” Stiles added tentatively.

“And that thing from the basement of Mercury. It followed us all the way…to your house?”

Stiles winced, and Neal saw flashes of blood. “My house, yes, and joy, won’t that be _awesome_ to explain to my dad. But I don’t think it’s the same creature. To jog your memory, I’m 99.1 percent certain that my pencil trick killed the basement thing. If you don’t remember the explosion of goo, I say kudos to you, ignorance is bliss.”

Neal focused on deep breathing, but even that didn’t ease his anxiety. If his heart rate slowed enough, he might fall asleep and relive that particular nightmare, but if he didn’t calm down, he might pass out from the strain alone.

Exhaling loudly, he asked, “So what do we do now?”

“Now we sleep like the fucking _dead._ ” Stiles proclaimed as he turned off his Jeep’s ignition and pocketed his keys. “It’s been a long-ass weekend for the both of us.” Neal watched dumbly as Stiles hopped out, circled towards Neal’s door to open it for the man. “And we’re no good to anyone right now. So rest up for now!” 

When the two of them reached Neal’s hotel door, and the older man made no move, Stiles wordlessly reached into Neal’s pockets to grab the hotel key. Once they were inside, Stiles motioned to Neal towards the bed. In the background of his thoughts, Neal knew he should lay down and follow Stiles’ advice, but he just couldn’t relax his muscles enough. Instead, he sat down and stared at the hotel wallpaper. Sandy brown with a strange diamond motif.

In the corner of his vision, he could see Stiles checking the closet and bathroom windows. Why wasn’t Stiles as frozen as Neal was? Didn’t they just see the same thing? Didn’t they kill the same monster? Twice?

 _No._ Neal realized. _Stiles was the one to kill it, the one to run it over, he even gave it a stupid pet name!_ “Who are you?” he asked the younger man.

Stiles paused before checking the front door locks. He glanced back at Neal with his trademark reassuring grin, “I’m just Stiles. And you seriously need to lie back and sleep before you forget your own name.”

When Neal again made no move, Stiles sighed and simply pushed Neal’s shoulders back into the bedding. “Where’s your partner? Peter, right?”

Neal finally responded, “He sometimes sticks a note inside the closet.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow but walked over, opened the closet door, and lo and behold, a white Post-it note simply saying, “Out with leads. Be back tonight.” While Stiles checked the time on his phone, he casually asked, “Why the closet?”

“Because it’s the most likely place I’ll use.”

Stiles chuckled. “You do love your _menswear_.” He walked back to the bed and leaned over to look Neal in the eyes. “Okay, it’s a little after 9 pm right now. Peter’s note said he’d be back tonight, so probably in a few hours at the latest. _Please_ promise me you’ll try to get some sleep?”

Before Stiles could stand straight, Neal gripped the other man’s arm. “Stay with me tonight?” Even though Neal kept his eyes firmly on Stiles’ chest and collarbone, he could still see that the younger man was frozen in shock. And his heartbeat was pumping so fast, he could feel the thrumming in the pulse point in Stiles’ arm.

“I, I can’t.” Stiles replied with a shaky voice.

“Because of Derek,” Neal quietly accused after looking into Stiles’ gaze. The younger man immediately reared back, and there was indignant fire in his eyes now.

“No, you _fucker_ , because your federal agent partner is coming back in mere hours! Because I can’t not explain the bloody animal carcass outside my house to my father, the sheriff! _Because I’m too exhausted for this shit!_ ” Stiles shoved Neal away and stormed out of the hotel room, even slamming the door.

Neal just stared at the door, frozen again. When he heard the squealing tires of Stiles’ Jeep fade away, he tried to breathe in and out slowly but even that seemed to drain his body. After a while of this, Neal finally got up to lock his door. He didn’t turn off the lights. He didn’t take his suit off, not caring that it was already wrinkled and probably drenched with sweat.

He laid down on the bed and wrapped himself in the blankets. When his eyelids were too heavy to keep open, he found himself praying that Peter would return soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THIS MARKS THE END OF ALL PREVIOUSLY-WRITTEN CHAPTERS.
> 
> I will try to update once a month AND try to finish this fic by Chapter 30. BY GOD WILL I TRY.
> 
> But be warned, another hiatus is likely.
> 
> INSERT POINTLESS PROMOTION: Listening to Tchaikovsky's ballet scores (Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty) really helped me power through the tedious task of uploading all the chapters and editing as I went. And it helped me write this chapter after MONTHS of being practically drained of life.  
> I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT.


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